The Super Secret Diary of Eustace Clarence Scrubb
by balfies
Summary: Eustace Scrubb is an annoying prat, and this diary is a clear example of this. Rated M for VERY strong language, highly inappropriate content and serious butchering of C S Lewis's characters. I am a horrible human being for writing this.
1. Day 1

_Day 1._

Today my stupid-ass cousins arrived.

They're going to stay with us for ages coz the rest of their family is off being wealthy in America. Lucy keeps on whining about this and that and Edmund keeps telling her that they'll get to go someday soon.

As if.

Their parents completely do not love them enough to do anything of the sort. I informed them of this seemingly obvious fact and they told me to get out, the ungrateful weasels.

I have to share a room with Edmund. Don't think I'll be able to stand the stench. He's brought a whole horde of stupid books to read along with him – most of them filled with fanciful rubbish pertaining to singing spoons and God knows what else (though of course God doesn't know what else, because as I am an antagonist in this Christian story, I must be an atheist). I told Edmund he'd probs be much better off with a box of porn, but he told me to mind my own business. It is true, though. Mother says pornography is good for the soul. She also says drinking will cleanse my system, but I don't have enough money to buy a case of whisky yet. Maybe I'll get some for myself when the infamous English drug lords offer me a job in a few years and I can actually buy things. For the minute, though, I'll just stick to V and Red Bull.

Edmund doesn't even have roll-on deodorant. He uses this spray stuff that gets everywhere and makes me cough. I'm sure he's trying to kill me. This fact is also supported by the constant strumming of the guitar thing he's got going for himself. I tried telling him that it's only bimbos who go for guitarists, but he argued back that girls shouldn't be classed like that and he played it for the enjoyment of the instrument. Not for the girls my arse. I told him how I tried getting in the pants of that Jessica girl a few years back with my drumming skills but failed. He gave me a blank stare and left the room.

I see how it is.

Lucy's even worse than Ed if that's possible. She doesn't wear any make up at all which doesn't help the fact that she's a bit on the ugly side. And she keeps going on about that imaginary country with Ed like the gullible bitch she is. I told her to stop being childish and she told me to go away. Bet she's having her period.

I gotta go now – Alberta says it's dinner time. Mmm. Vegetarian meals.


	2. Day 2

**Day 2 of the Reign of Cousin Stupid and Cousin Annoying**

I want to strangle Edmund. He's such a douchebag. Seriously.

Being the nice, tolerant host I am, I offered him a shot of alcopops, but he didn't take it because he said – get this – that he _doesn't like alcohol_. What kind of frigid bitch is his mother? Did she scoop his brain out and replace it with a block of marble?

He does this thing where if I leave something on the floor he'll pick it up and put it on my bed. Pisses me off. I like my shit being on the floor. I really do not want my socks with excess masturbation in them cluttering up my pillowspace. I told him clearing up was what the Mexican cleaning woman was for, and he told me we should make her job as easy as possible and not give her extra work. What an annoying prick. I feel like I could just smash that picture of the boat over his head and then tie him up and smash his guitar as well. He won't stop playing it. Thinks he's some kind of god with it or something. Asshat.

And Lucy is just being really tetchy all the time. She doesn't talk to me at all. She didn't even say anything when I told her that hilarious joke about the Jamaican nymphomaniac with paraplegia. She just walked off like the hormonal bitch she is. She gives me really condescending looks. Rage. If she's going to not like me, she could at least tell me to fuck off or something, but she just doesn't say anything at all. I'm not worth the time or something. Bitch.

She keeps writing stories. I peeked over her shoulder to see what they were – fanfiction. What kind of piss-head spends their time writing that shit? I told her what rubbish fanfiction is and she told me she enjoyed imagining what happened behind the scenes. "It's a good way of refining what I enjoy doing." I was all "Well, if you want to spend your time lazing about writing about how Frodo and Sam had another nineteen children, by all means go ahead, but don't come crying to me when you're still a virgin at fifty-five." She rolled her eyes and told me to go annoy Alberta. I felt like throwing up on her face, just to see her reaction.

It's not like I haven't tried to be accommodating or anything. I asked them if they wanted to practice their tags on the wall by the train station yesterday. Neither of them knew what tags were. I dutifully explained to them the art of graffiti-ing and they told me to leave them alone. And then they went back to their silent arse-licking. How I'm related to them I have no idea.

Anyways, off to play COD Black Ops.

Such. A. Good. Game.


	3. Day 3

**Day 3 of Arsehole Invasion**

Three days? Seems like three fucking years! L and E "went for a walk" this morning, so I had the house to myself, thank fucking god (haven't wanked in a week and it has been KILLING. ME.)

So I went through Lucy's stuff to see if she had any lacy things I could sell at school. Nothing. Not a G-string in sight. She gets more frigid by the minute. I don't reckon they even teach Sex Ed at her school.

Huh. Sex Ed. Like Sex Edmund. It's funny because he talks to girls about things, not about where they should fuck.

Lucy's reading War and Peace. **For fun**.

What kind of freak reads that shit for fun? It's like a billion pages long and full of some pig-headed nerd who dies in the end or something.

Anyway, Alberta FINALLY gave me the keys to the Model T yesterday, so I went and did some dust rings in the town square. Fun. As. Fuck. All those jumped up Commies watching me live, sitting there in their ill-fitting clothes. Even Jessica's clothes are ill-fitting. I saw her giving me this soul-burning glare, so I flipped her off and told her to wear something that suits her body shape, preferably nothing at all. She rolled her eyes and told me to fuck off.

Some people.


	4. Day 4

Well fuck me sideways three times. Narnia's a place.

There was this painting and then there was some water and now I'm on a ship as big as a bath tub floating on a non-existent ocean. Bit of a turn-up, hey?

So we're pretty much going to die.

Lucy and Ed think it's all wonderful and they dragged me around the ship introducing me to all the talking imaginary creatures and a heap of guys with beards and Spanish accents, one of whom was reputedly a king, although they all looked about as regal as a dissected frog. He's called Caspian. Just… no. What messed up arse calls their kid Caspian? I'd feel sorry for him if he weren't such a prick, mincing about with his fancy accent and his fancy beard.

Lucy and Ed are all excited and shit, but no one seems to be hearing my side of the story. I hate it. This boat has the stability of a crack addict, the furnishing of a rotting fish-house in Antarctica and the total cultural awareness of a bundle of sticks – I'm not even kidding, no one knows who Charles Darwin is. I thought that'd be an interesting topic of conversation – finding out what everything evolved from, but no. Apparently everything was just _made_. The shithole doesn't even have electricity! Not only can I not call for help, but I can't even recharge my phone or anything which is ridiculously stupid. Oh, and there's not even a British Consul here which means that I can't get back legally. I feel like one of those foreign boat people. Oh God what if Alberta finds out? There go all chances of any inheritance ever.

Fuck, Ed's such a dick. He comes in and he's all "Come up on deck, Eustace, the sights are beautiful and the lambs are bleating and the sky is singing and the rat the size of a four-year-old is wonderful tralala." Oh, I didn't mention the rat that's set out to kill me?

Yeah, there's a sadistic talking rat with a sword on its hip, a feather on its head and bloodthirst embedded in its brain.

Anyway, I was like "Fuck off Edmund, unless you've magicked up an idea to get us home to England, in which case do continue." He walked away.

Maybe it's all a nightmare and I'll wake up. It could be a mindrape the Nazi's made.

Shit, what if we've been kidnapped and drugged to think these things? What if nothing's real? EXISTENTIAL CRISIS OMG.

News update. Everything is real. That sonofabitch rat poked me with his sword and it bled. Pain = reality. Lucy gave me some foul liquid that tasted of foot and said it'd help. She is trying to poison me I swear. Not that I blame her. You hear of it all the time – they kill the smartest person on the ship first so no one thinks for themselves and they can all just blindly follow the captain.

Just… fuck.

FML.


	5. Day 5

IS THERE NO MERCY IN THIS LAND. Can't a guy just have a good wank alone? Apparently not. This fucked up Tupperware container that somehow passes regulations to be a boat has no privacy whatsoever.

Ed and Caspianus and I are all shoved into this little room together. My space is confined to my hammock and fifteen inches either side of aforementioned hammock.

Whoever designed this place should die a painful death. A painful death of pain. A painful death of pain in a place that made them really horny but they had poisonous barbs all over their hands. Ow. Yeah, that seems adequate.

So apparently we have to find seven Lost Lords or some fucked up adventure like that, which I don't get because surely if they're known as the Lost Lords they should be lost… Their names are preposterously idiotic – one of them's called Swoop or something.

Oh, and also we're only allowed one glass of water a day, and they don't have anything to purify the sea water. What kind of imbeciles planned this voyage? Was death one of the planned outcomes?

There are actually so many ways we could die. I'm not even kidding.

Starvation

Thirst

Drowned in a storm

Some fantasy creature disease could cross into human DNA

Pirates

That rat could slit our throats while we sleep

Sunstroke – there. is. no. sunscreen. I'll be bright red by the time we're through, and then Alberta'll think I'm all for the commies which is FUCKING FANTASTIC. (Sarcasm, diary. Sarcasm)

Boredom

Stupidity

More Pirates

We could choke on beards

Lack of information from the civilised world (in case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind missing out on Jersey Shore which is fucked up)

Sex starvation

Probs some kind of fantasy dangers here like magic fire or sparkly water that strangles your brain or some shit

Some kind of STD from fucking one of the goat-man things out of desperation (not myself, of course, but I worry about Ed)

Even more pirates

Seriously, this boat is a fucking deathtrap get me out of here!


	6. Day 6

Son of a bitch Caspian's a tightarse.

I asked him for one extra glass of water because I was legit dying of thirst. I could literally feel my throat cracking and shit. He was all "We all have to make sacrifices – everyone's just as thirsty as you, Eustace."

Fuck you, Caspian. If you were a real king you'd be on a cruise ship with mostly naked girls dancing around you, pealing grapes and feeding you martinis. But no, instead you're a whiny, unsympathetic fuckhead with a perverted map obsession.

Lucy plays chess with the rat all day. Chess. With a motherfucking rat. What lunatic decides that carriers of the plague should learn how to direct a knight across a chessboard stealthily?

And shitting off this boat is the most revolting thing I have ever done.

It's savagery!

You squat over the end of the boat, and then use a rope as toilet paper.

A rope that everyone else uses.

Could it not kill them to have a box of fucking Kleenex? We could get typhoid or AIDs or horse-man-flu.

I'm going to go now – Ed's rounding everyone up to help with the ship cleaning. He says we need to "take pride in the ship".

Yeahno. I wouldn't take pride in a plasticine model of this ship. I am going down to the gunpowder room for a solid wank. Should hide me safely for a few hours. I can finally get some time to myself.

Oh, and by the way: NEVER attempt to use Narnian socks to replace good old English wanksocks. They are made of fucking sandpaper. Took my dick like, a week to recover.


	7. Day 7

So we were all cruising and shit, doing what we do when we're trapped in the middle of the ocean – everyone else was following the orders of some pussy captain who doesn't even have the fucking decency to wear an eyepatch, and I was avoiding the rat who has managed not to drown every time I've pushed him overboard somehow – when suddenly there was a shape in the distance.

Predictably, rather than the "Holy shit land! Civilisation! Porn!" kind of response that I gave, everyone else was all cautious and shit.

"It could be dangerous."

Bullshit.

Oh, hey, not sure about you, but anywhere's less dangerous than this deathtrap vessel fuck you very much.

Anyway, we're sat in the harbour doing fuck-all because of reasons that no one feels like telling me.

So yeah.

In the meantime, I'm going to go through the sailors' quarters once more on a porn hunt because jesus these are SAILORS we are talking about. MOTHERFUCKING SAILORS THEY HAVE TO HAVE SOMETHING.

xoxo gossip eustace.


	8. Day 8 tbqh I have no idea what I'm doing

HA

HAHAHAHA

THE ISLAND WE LANDED ON MADE US SLAVES

AHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAAA Aahahahdjadkalkssdfsf aaaaahah

WHAT A GREAT FUCKING EXPERIENCE I DON'T THINK

And amidst all the hubbub of being enslaved the goddamn slave traders lost my best fedora, the dickbags.

God, this is just the worst.

And then Caspian came and "rescued" us quote unquote.

Not like we needed rescuing, it's obvious the bourgeois don't even like slavery I mean NONE of them wanted me as a slave so either they be hatin on the system or they weren't able to recognise my talents and intelligence.

Anyway, we got ourselves to a place of v v good things in the end (and by that I mean a strip club thinly veiled as a royal court outpost, whoop whoop) but Caspian got rid of the jammy bastard running the joint and instilled some guy who was a slave with us as the ruler instead

What the hell even Caspian, you are the LITERAL WORST

THIS IS NOT A DEMOCRACY

YOU ARE RUNNING THIS JOINT AND NO ONE IS GETTING HIGH FROM IT

Anyway, I am once again in the shithole that passes for our quarters having just been interrupted by that fucking mouse again mid-wank. He made some snarky comment about how the style of sword a man uses reveals what kind of man he is and then pointed at my dick and just

I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD, THIS FUCKING SHIP.

Lucy and Edmund, of course, think it's wonderful that we "liberated" the island, but are they examining the economic impacts this'll have? We've fucked up the slavery system they had and now they're going to dry wank themselves into bankruptcy because they put some cretin in charge of shit and just

Why

I mean it's all very well to live in an imaginary world but jesus fuck at least let it have some political consistency

Or at the very least, an internet connection.


End file.
